I Want To Be Your Light
by I Write Tragedies
Summary: HPNL. Earlier that night he had been thinking it was the end, little did he know that it was only the beginning.


**I Want To Be Your Light**  
**Neville Longbottom**

That eventide the cobalt sky was decorated with streaks of darkness that were reminiscent of many a spilt pot of ink and the profusion of stars searing into the indigo flesh of the firmament reminded him of fireflies whose light went out every time he blinked. The rufous coloured stratocumuli obscured a vast amount of the dusting of stars that had been injected into the heavens an eternity ago by an entity unknown to him. The uppermost stark branches of the close knit ramose trees of the Forbidden Forest were not unlike his own fingers, which were splayed out on the knees of his black trousers. He blinked his teary seal brown coloured eyes, which created the effect that the coruscating stars existing in the indigo velvet canopying the earth had melted into enamel lightening bolts. When he reopened his eyes they fell upon the rippling obsidian surface of the lake and his gaze was instantly attracted to the reflection of the beckoning, sombre moon. He found the moon to be a miserable creature; every night witnessing the terror humans attempted to shroud with the night's umbrage. Regardless of how fiercely it respired; the wind was never able to send away the images it was forced to brook.

Neville heard someone open the oak door that led into the dormitory and then shut it softly. He turned his head to see who had just entered and found Harry looking timidly at him; his left hand still on the doorknob. Neville felt his soul flutter in delight upon having Harry's jade green eyes directed at him. His delight quickly transformed into anxiety as his bashful mien began to affect his way of thinking. He reached up with both his hands and smoothed back his ear length morion coloured curls so that if they had before been tousled they were less so afterwards. Harry smiled nervously then reached up with his right hand, the hem of his slightly baggy navy blue jumper hooked over his thumb so it did not move with his sudden action, and scratched the nape of his neck for a moment as he stared into Neville's eyes. An unbidden blush began to creep up under Neville's soft wan cheeks. Harry had long, thin fingers with trimmed square fingernails and just the thought of what those nimble fingers could do made his body and soul ache in longing.

"Hey, Neville." Harry said quietly as he dropped his hand and the sleeve of his jumper fell over his pale, slender fingers. He had said his name in such a gentle way. If it were possible to verbally caress a person that was what he had just done.

"Hi, Harry." Neville breathlessly stuttered as he watched a smile flicker over Harry's full pink lips. Oh, Merlin, those delicate lips that looked so utterly kissable could make him go weak in the knees. How could a person's body have so much potential for bringing pleasure to another?

"I've been looking for you. I was worried that you were avoiding me." Harry said hesitantly as he looked down at the hardwood floor, which was strewn with scatter rugs and miscellaneous rugated articles of clothing. The impact his tentative words had on Neville was intense. It felt as if they had permeated through his black, long sleeved shirt and his skin to where his soul resided and immediately went to work scraping and clawing at it to cause the maximum amount of pain possible.

"Why would I be avoiding you?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Well, because of... what happened at..." Harry said faintly, allowing his voice to falter as he searched for the courage to continue. "St. Mungo's." He finished softly as he glanced up and met Neville's gaze before looking away again. Neville recalled his memory of happening upon Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny at St. Mungo's during holiday in his parent's ward. A feeling of helplessness filled the pit of his stomach at the thought of his parents as tears of grief began to well up in his eyes. He willed himself to not cry in front of Harry but he had already been in a vulnerable state before his appearance and his silent pleading with his own self was futile.

"I haven't been avoiding you." Neville whispered in a shaky voice as he turned his head and looked back out the window at the star-spangled serene night sky.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked in concern. Neville inwardly cursed himself for allowing Harry to learn of his sadness.

"I'm fine." Neville lied as he reached up with his right hand and used his fingertips to brush away the tears threatening to fall.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry." Harry said and Neville could hear the sincerity behind his words.

"It's not..." Neville could not honestly say that his tears had nothing to do with Harry because they did. Before Harry's arrival, Neville had been trying not to think about Harry embracing him, holding him, telling him that everything would be okay.

"Do you want me to go?" Harry asked in a sympathetic tone, somehow triggering the sorrow in Neville's deeply distressed soul and causing him to unleash a sob. A sob that seemed to hang in mid-air as he wrapped his arms around himself in an essay to trick his mind into believing someone was holding him. A pregnant silence followed but the sound of his sob echoed in his ears and he knew that Harry was likely rolling his eyes in exasperation because even someone as compassionate as Harry had their limit of weakness they could endure without showing their vexation. A rush of adrenaline flashed through his veins as he felt the heat and pressure of someone placing their hand on his back. He refused to believe for a second that it was Harry comforting him. He simply could not believe that when it was something he had been craving for three years. "Neville?" He heard Harry whisper in a concerned tone of voice. Neville cried harder and in reply he felt Harry's hand begin to move in small circles. He fought the urge to lean towards Harry because if he made even one move that could make his feelings for Harry known, the only person he had ever fallen in love with would hate him.

"I'm okay." Neville lied as he fought to stop his flow of tears but the feelings behind them were far too vast and intense to be stopped so suddenly.

"That's obviously not true." Harry said coaxingly. He clearly wanted to know why Neville was so emotional but there was nothing he could say because it was Harry's touch and presence reducing him to the miserable state he was in.

"Please, don't touch me." Neville reluctantly whispered through his tears. He felt Harry's hand disappear, which only made Neville's tears fall at a more rapid and desperate rate. He craved the heat of Harry's soothing hand and regretted his words but did not ask for him to replace it. He had already been humiliated in front of him and did not feel like putting himself through any more mortification.

"Neville--" Harry started but the way he said it with such gentleness and a vague hint of pain, whether it was imagined or real, caused Neville's overwhelming sorrow to well up anew.

"Please, don't say my name!" Neville cried as he crumpled into himself and felt his forehead fall against his knees.

"Why? I don't understand..." Harry said softly and with every word, Neville felt his soul ache. He had never been this close to him before and the feeling was extraordinary yet terrifying at the same time because he knew what would happen if he gave into his desires. A sudden image of him lying on the floor with Harry standing above him, fist raised and a disgusted, furious glint in his eyes, flashed through his mind.

"Please, just go!" Neville cried distraughtly as sobs continued to rack their way up through his chest. Could Harry even understand him? He was not even sure if he was speaking coherently.

"I'm not leaving you like this." Harry said firmly and then placed his hand back on Neville's shoulder. Why did he have to touch him like that? Was he blind that he did not see the effect it was having on him?

"Stop touching me!" Neville shouted as he jumped from the edge of his mattress and made to leave but something was holding him back. He looked down and saw that Harry had hold of his left wrist. He forced himself to not look Harry in the eyes because he knew that if he saw the pain he was in, he would be able to see what it stemmed from.

"What happened, Neville?" Harry beseeched. Why did he have to be so wonderful and why did he have to touch him like that? Neville felt all the strength in his knees disappear and he fell to the floor, clutching at his chest with his right hand as he wept. "Please, talk to me! You're scaring me." He said and Neville could hear the emotion in his voice. Neville forgot to fight the urge and looked up into Harry's eyes. He had never felt more lonesome in his life than when his eyes met Harry's and he felt him reading the expression in them. He could not look away although everything from his soul to his brain was telling him to. "What happened, Neville?" He asked in a trembling voice. The frightened look he found on Harry's face caused Neville to cringe and look away as once again he found himself imagining him standing above him with a look of revulsion on his handsome face, distorting it into a horrible sight.

"Please..." Neville murmured as a wild blaze of need and longing rushed through his body, "Stop. I can't do this." He said under his breath as he felt Harry pulling him gently towards him.

"Can't do what?" Harry asked in abject imploration. Neville could hear in his soft voice that he was close to tears and he felt a new wave of self-abhorrence crash over him.

"I can't go on like this." Neville whispered as quietly as possible in hopes of Harry not hearing him. He could still feel Harry's hand around his wrist and he could not help but feel anchored there. He only wished that there were a reason behind the act. He wished that Harry would just raise his hand to his beautiful lips and kiss the inside of his wrist but that was never going to happen. Why did he have to want him like that? There was nothing he could do about how he felt without having Harry hate him and that would kill him slowly unless he... There had to be a way to make it stop because anything, even death, would be better than being gay and hopelessly in love with someone who could never love him back.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked warily. His grip loosened on Neville's wrist in his trepidation and Neville took advantage by pulling away from him to hide it in his lap.

"Why do you care?" Neville asked in a pathetic attempt at igniting Harry's temper so that he would leave, allowing Neville to cry in privacy. "You don't know a thing about me. Why do you care?" He shot at Harry as he looked up at him. The last things that he expected to see when he looked at Harry's face were silent tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

"Don't act like this. Tell me what's going on." Harry pled quietly as his tears continued to flow. Neville did not allow himself to trick himself into believing for a second that those tears were for him. The amount of intense emotion Neville was producing and directing towards Harry was likely having an effect on him because he was a sensitive person. It had nothing to do with his feelings for him. He was just an unwilling spectator to his roommate's breakdown. "And don't lie to me. I want the truth, Neville." He added as an afterthought and Neville felt the urge to tell him everything from how much he loved it when he said his name to how much he wanted him to kiss him just once even if it were only as a joke.

"Just leave me alone." Neville said wretchedly as he placed the palms of his hands on the floor and pushed himself up into a standing position.

"I'm not going anywhere." Harry said obstinately. Neville turned so that he had his back to Harry and he began to clean his face off with his sleeves so that he did not look as terrible as he normally did after his crying jags. His brain was now preoccupied with images of his own demise. There had to be a way he could do it. He had considered his possibilities long ago but now that he was at school none of them seemed feasible. Then an idea hit him like Harry surely would if he found out he was gay and in love with him.

"Then I'll go." Neville said steadily as he turned round to face Harry who was gazing at him with a look of alarm in his eyes.

"Do you honestly expect me to let you leave after that?" Harry asked rhetorically in a disbelieving tone of voice. Neville sighed wearily and wondered why Harry could not just be the sort of person who listened to people. "I don't understand exactly what's going on but I'm afraid for you." Harry added gently. Neville studied the entreating expression in Harry's eyes and while he wanted to answer his unasked questions the fear of the consequences kept him from doing so. He cast his gaze to the door and silently begged for Ron to come in so that Harry would be distracted long enough for him to slip out and get to the Room of Requirement.

"Just leave me alone, Harry." Neville said more firmly but quietly.

Maugre his pain instigated by Harry's presence, he did not want him to leave. He still craved Harry's gentle touch and what he imagined would be tender kisses on his neck just above his pulse, which would quicken at the sensation of Harry's warm breath on his cool skin. Neville felt himself vail down on Seamus's bed behind him and tears fell afresh from his fordone eyes. Why did he have to be this way? Why could he not be normal? Why did he have to be so perverted and have such aberrant thoughts? As if it were not bad enough that his parents were unable to love him and his Gran resented him for not being more powerful, there was absolutely no chance that anyone would ever fall in love with him because he was a freak. The only way he would ever find peace from his depression was if he were to kill himself. He could hang himself and no one would even find his body until the next D.A. meeting. No one would even care that he was gone or be curious as to why he did it. They would forget all about him a few days later and Harry would never have to know that he had been in love with him.

"Stop telling me to leave you alone. I'm not going anywhere." Harry said resolutely. Neville raised his head and looked him directly in the eyes. Why did he have to be so perfect and say all the right things when Neville could never be with him? How could he not see the torture he was putting him through just by being in the same room as him? "Just tell me what's wrong." He whispered.

"You wouldn't understand." Neville said somnolently. His fatigue and seemingly never-ending fits of tears over the past few days were catching up with him.

"Try me." Harry said with a small encouraging smile. Neville felt another unwanted blush rise up under his cheeks with Harry's words and he had to force himself to look away from fear that Harry would be able to see the concupiscent look in his eyes. Neville felt his frustration growing and suddenly he knew that he had to tell him if only to ensure that he would commit suicide later that night. There was no possible way that he could back out when Harry was enlisting the help of his friends to beat him up for making a pass at him. He looked up into Harry's eyes, a thousand words of explanation and countless pleas for mercy tangling up inside his brain, and suspired.

"Harry..." Neville managed to say before the storm of emotion in his chest prevented him from going any further. How was he going to do this? How could he tell Harry what he had been hiding for so long? He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands as he cried noisily. He gave a start when he felt the bedsprings on his left press down under Harry's weight and he made to move away from him but before he could he once again felt Harry's hand on his back.

"Hey, whatever it is can't be so bad." Harry said soothingly as he moved his hand from Neville's back to his right shoulder. Neville wiped his face off on his sleeves and looked up at Harry. His eyelids felt as if they were full of sand and he knew that he looked horrible but Harry did not make a disgusted face. Instead he smiled encouragingly once again and Neville felt his heart begin beating faster.

"But it is and you'd hate me if I told you." Neville said despairingly as he turned his head and looked down at the floor. He felt Harry's grip tighten ever so slightly on his shoulder and reflexively he leant slightly towards Harry. He heard Harry's breath hitch in his throat and he felt his heart begin beating even faster than before. He was sure it was going to explode at any moment and he was certain that Harry had just realised what was going on.

"I... I could never hate you, Neville." Harry whispered. Neville turned his head to look at him and the strange contemplative look in Harry's eyes told Neville that he had figured it out. Any minute now Harry was going to jump to his feet and start hitting him, screaming that he hated him. Neville felt a single tear fall from the corner of his right eye and he watched as Harry's eyes found it and followed its progress down his cheek. Any minute now... Any minute now...

"I'm sorry." Neville whispered, his voice barely audible due to his immense fear of being subjected to Harry's fury and repulsion.

"How long have you..." Harry started to say but he stopped when Neville started to cry again.

"Three years. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for it to happen. I tried not to think of you like that but I couldn't stop. I'm sorry! Please, just don't hate me. I could understand if you didn't want to ever talk to me again but please just don't hate me." Neville begged in a muffled, distressed tone of voice as he covered his face with his hands and sobbed uncontrollably, waiting for the inevitable blow of a fist or a harsh, hateful word.

"Three years..." Harry repeated under his breath. Neville tensed and held his breath as he waited for Harry to push him away or spit on him. He just wanted him to get it over with so that he could go and stop the pain that had had his soul in a vice-like grip for the past three years. "You've known for three years and you never told me?" Harry asked softly as he began to slowly move his hand in small circles on Neville's shoulder. Neville exhaled but kept himself prepared for a sudden attack.

"I was scared." Neville whispered warily as he turned his head and met Harry's gaze. He flinched when he felt the tips of Harry's fingers touch his right cheek and closed his eyes because the strange intensity in Harry's eyes was too much for him to endure. His heart was beating so violently at that point that it was starting to hurt.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Harry whispered in a pained tone of voice as he began to gently stroke Neville's cheek. Neville opened his eyes and looked into Harry's, what he saw there was not something he had expected. Harry was gazing into his eyes with a look of agony and earnestness that Neville had never seen directed his way before especially from someone he had thought would detest him after his confession.

"I know it's wrong." Neville said as he closed his eyes and tried not to be too obvious that he was luxuriating in the feeling of Harry's fingertips moving gracefully on his cheek. "I've told myself that a million times but I can't stop feeling the way I do." He continued, unable to stop himself from making a bigger fool of himself. It felt like he was not in control of his tongue and the words just fell from his lips as if a pair of floodgates on his soul had been opened. "I don't understand why this had to happen to me. I've never done anything wrong. I just want to be happy but it's impossible. It's never going to happen." He said in a shaky voice as fresh tears began to fall down his salty cheeks. He felt Harry's hand fall from his shoulder to his side and before he realised what was happening, he was being pulled into a hug. He could not even remember the last time he had been hugged, which made him think that it had not happened since he was a very small child. Harry's arms were stronger than they looked and he was so warm that as soon as he felt his shoulder come into contact with Harry's chest he felt his muscles relax. Harry's left hand was still lightly stroking Neville's cheek as his right hand held him close to him. This had been a fantasy of his for three long years and now that it was happening Neville's thoughts were spinning so quickly through his brain that he could barely comprehend what was going on.

"I don't think it's wrong." Harry whispered. Neville felt something press up against his pate and he wondered if it was Harry's cheek but he could not understand why he would do that. Then again he was still in shock that he was not getting kicked in the stomach but instead, being cradled in Harry's arms. "I don't think it's wrong at all." He added and Neville thought for a horrifying moment that his heart had stopped beating.

"You... don't?" Neville asked, hardly daring to believe what was happening to him but he knew that it would not last. If anything good ever happened to him, which was rare, soon after something terrible happened just to prove to him that he could never be happy.

"No." Harry whispered.

A wave of relief crashed over Neville's soul and he took a deep breath to calm himself down before he said something wrong. He felt Harry's right hand brush over his back and settle on the left side of his chest. Then he was being pushed up into a sitting position and a batch of new tears began to well up in his chest. Of course, Harry might not think it was wrong but that did not mean he wanted to be with him. How could he have allowed himself to believe that for one second Harry could want him?

Neville moved to stand up but felt Harry's left hand slip from his cheek to his right wrist. He suspired before turning his head to meet Harry's gaze. The pain was simply becoming too much to bear for much longer and it was just plain cruel of Harry to keep him there. He felt Harry's left hand release his wrist and then felt Harry's fingertips on his cheek once again. The look in Harry's eyes was one of caution and Neville opened his mouth to apologise when he felt Harry's fingers slide from their place on his jaw to his lower lip. Neville furrowed his brow in confusion as Harry moved his hand and placed it on the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of Harry's palm. How could that one simple touch feel so good? Was Harry aware of what he was doing to him?

"I've wanted to do this for four months." Harry whispered and before Neville could ask for elaboration he felt something warm press up against his lips. Neville's eyes fluttered open and his sight was filled with the jade colour of Harry's eyes. He was being kissed for the first time in his life by the only person he had ever wanted to kiss. It felt like a bolt of lightening had struck him and as the shock began to wear off, he pressed his own lips up against Harry's. He heard a moan of approval and a jolt of pleasure ran through his body as he felt Harry's left hand begin to massage his neck. Neville closed his eyes as he felt Harry break away from him and then opened them to see if Harry looked regretful but he was pleasantly surprised to see him smiling. Neville closed his eyes again and relaxed against Harry's left hand as he felt Harry lean in to kiss him again. Earlier he had been thinking it was the end but as he felt Harry moving closer to him on the bed he realised that it was only the beginning.

**Au Revoir**


End file.
